


The Jumper Effect

by Doctor_Gabriel_Sherlock_Potter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Caring, Crushes, Experiments, First Kiss, Fluff, Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, Jumpers, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Sherlock doesn't deal with emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1249426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Gabriel_Sherlock_Potter/pseuds/Doctor_Gabriel_Sherlock_Potter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes and John Watson secretly have a crush on one another. Neither man daring to take the first step. Sherlock has a secret containing John's jumpers, but what if John finds out? And how will their current case affect their relationship? What if something were to happen to John?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello^^ I've had the main idea stuck in my head since I was like 10 (with different characters depending on my favorite movie at the time being), so I decided to make it into a fic. This is my very first fic, so I hope you like it! Feel free to comment and ask me stuff :)
> 
> And last but not least, I would like to thank Johnlock_WatsonHolmes (My very own personal John) for reading my fic and correcting my typos, and of course convince me to upload it :3 
> 
> That's it hope you enjoy my writing!^^

“I said pass me my phone.”

‘Uhhhh’ John responded. 

“Pass me phone, John. How hard can it be?” 

John raised himself from his chair and passed Sherlock his phone. “I’m going to make tea,” he said and walked into the kitchen, desperately hoping Sherlock hadn’t noticed he was blushing. And he was indeed blushing, because the true reason why John hadn’t noticed Sherlock’s request, was because he was studying and cataloguing every inch of Sherlock, every time he was busy doing experiments or reading case files. But this time he had been caught of guard, which led to the slightly embarrassing conversation. 

Deep down, John had been in love with Sherlock since their very first meeting at Bart’s, and when they (or rather John) had dinner at Angelo’s the following day, he had hinted to Sherlock, how he felt about him. It didn’t go slightly the way he had planned though, and John had felt the rejection like a slap in the face. 

However he told himself that it would get better, once he had been living with him long enough. That wasn’t the case. It seemed to be the exact opposite, but Sherlock was his friend, and he couldn’t risk their friendship by making a move. So he kept his true feelings to himself, and instead studied the love of his life, whenever he thought said person wasn’t paying attention. 

Of course John had tried to prove to himself that he was straight, and this whole thing with Sherlock was just a phase. Which was why he dated so many girls, but none of them gave him the same feelings, the same tickling sensation he got, when he was with Sherlock. Hell, he didn’t even remember their names anymore. 

Another reason why John kept looking at Sherlock was that since he threw himself off that roof, and was gone for two years, John had to keep reassuring himself. It had been the worst two years of his life, they were even worse than the ones he had spent in Afghanistan. Because this time he had lost, or he thought he had lost, the only one he had ever been in love with. 

The kettle flicked, and pulled him out of his thoughts. Pouring the hot water into the mugs, he carried them into the living room, and handed Sherlock one. Sherlock didn’t notice, he was way to busy with the papers and files spread across the living room floor. 

John couldn’t see his face; all he could see was that gorgeous arse of Sherlock’s staring him right in the face. It was so perfect, smooth and curved… “NO!” John thought to himself. “I cannot look at him that way, he doesn’t want, what I want.” But that arse sure as hell was beautiful. John immediately felt the blood draining from his brain, and going somewhere else. That's when he decided to make a quick retreat to his room. 

**************

It was a really complicated case. A triple murder on a man, his wife and their 4-year old son. They weren’t particularly wealthy, the man, Henry Thomson worked in the local Tesco, and his wife Katherine worked in a shop. The murderer had come to their house in the middle of the night and slit their throats. He had then disappeared leaving no fingerprints or anything else to help them identify the killer. The case had been going on for almost two weeks now, and they hadn’t even found the murder weapon. 

To put it mildly, Sherlock wasn’t happy about this. In fact he was beginning to get really frustrated, especially since he didn’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything lately. 

He of course knew, why he wasn’t able to concentrate. There was something or rather someone who kept distracting him. That someone’s name was John Watson. 

Ever since John had moved in, he had felt the attraction to him become deeper and stronger every day. 

He knew of course that John could never love him. John couldn’t love an annoying, mad and insufferable consulting detective.

John wanted a caring person, and not to forget, a woman. Sherlock knew that he could never deserve John, even if he lived a million years.

So Sherlock did the only thing that seemed reasonable, he deduced him when he wasn’t paying attention. 

Sometimes, he could swear he saw something; a blush, desire in his eyes. “No Sherlock,” he thought to himself, “You’re seeing things that isn’t there, and your mind is making it up! John is straight; he doesn’t love you, and never will!”

Surprised, he felt a tear on his cheek. Crying, how sentimental, how human. If John came in now, Sherlock would most likely die from embarrassment. If that were even possible. The idiots at Scotland Yard wouldn’t be able to figure it out, that's for sure! 

So Sherlock stormed into his room, and slammed the door a bit harder, than he meant to. 

He then fell down onto his bed, crying. He could almost hear his brothers annoying voice telling him that: “Caring is not an advantage!” But sod Mycroft, what did he know about love anyway? Admitted, about as much as Sherlock did, but Mycroft had never been in love.

Pushing the thought of his not very loving brother away, Sherlock ducked under his bed, and found the box, which contained one of John’s jumpers.

It had all started with John working at the clinic, and Sherlock being home missing him like he always did, whenever he wasn’t there. At some point, he had went to John’s room and nicked one of his jumpers. 

This little trick he now did, every day, when John was at work. Sherlock would swap the jumper he had, with one of the countless other ones, John owned. He did that for two reasons. 

First of all, John would grow suspicious, if one of his jumpers were constantly missing; even John would be able to deduce who took them. 

Second, and most important of all, if Sherlock kept a jumper too long, it would lose the smell of John. Which was why he started nicking the jumpers in the first place. 

So now Sherlock lay on his bed, crying, face buried in that sand coloured jumper, wishing he could cease existing from this world, and melt together with the soft fabric and forever live in a world that smelled like John Watson.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sherlock, have you seen my sand coloured jumper?” 

It had been about half an hour, and Sherlock was beginning to doze off in his own little world of John. 

“Shit, he cannot know I took it, he never can!” Quickly Sherlock stuffed it back in the box, and put it under the bed. He then proceeded to the living room to meet a puzzled John.

“Have you seen my sand coloured jumper?” John asked once again. 

“No, why would I? How am I supposed to know, where you put your stuff, John? 

“Okay sorry, I just figured since we live together you might have seen it?” 

“Well, I haven’t, so quit buggering me, I need to think!” Sherlock said a bit more harshly, than he meant to

“Fine, go sulk in that stupid mind palace of yours, I just asked! I didn’t mean to disturb or bore that superhuman, brilliant brain of yours! Tell you what, I’ll go to the work and stop bothering you!” 

He retrieved his jacket, and left Sherlock confused and heartbroken in their flat. It had never been his intention to hurt John, and yet he had done just that. Anger filled him, anger not directed towards John, but towards himself, because now he had definitely proved himself unworthy of John. 

Sherlock couldn’t help it he had to rid himself of this feeling, this anger. He went to get his coat, and stormed out into the cold November morning. 

Sherlock didn’t know where he was going he just walked. And when he had been walking for god knows how long, an idea popped into his head. He had to make it good again; he had to show John that he at least could be a good friend. 

But as much as Sherlock hated to ask for help, he couldn’t do something like this on his own, not without messing up completely. So he went home and knocked on the door to Mrs Hudson’s flat. 

“Hello Sherlock,” she beamed at him, when she opened the door, “Come in, come in!”

Sherlock stepped inside while considering his words carefully. “Mrs Hudson,” he began, “I… I need to ask you something.”

“What dear, you know you can ask me anything.”

“Okay, yes um… You see this morning, I may have upset John, and… and I want to make up for it by cooking dinner.”

“Oh Sherlock! That’s a wonderful idea! Mind you, I did hear him leaving this morning, and he did seem rather angry, were you two having a little domestic? Not that it’s my business of course, but I want you to be happy Sherlock.”

“Well, thank you Mrs H, but it doesn’t seem very likely.”

“Why not, I can tell that you love him very much, so why not?”

“Yes well… wait a second, how do you know? How do you know I’m in love with John?”

“Oh dear, it’s fairly obvious, you see whenever John is present you change your attitude, you become more… human. That and I have that female instinct, I can tell when someone is in love, I can see it in John too.”

“Mrs Hudson, you are very sweet and kind, but I don’t think John could ever love me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make it up too him about this morning, will you help me? I’m not exactly a master cook.”

“Of course I will help you dear, let’s take a look in your fridge, to find out, what you already have.”

“Besides John’s jam and a severed head, not really anything.”

“Well maybe we should just go straight to Tesco then”  
“That would be the best.”

**************

Sherlock had never thought of shopping like a big deal, someone would always do it for him, and he was absolutely fine with that. So he hadn’t been quite prepared for all the people, and all the different variations on the same kinds of food. It had been an absolute nightmare, and the 40 minutes they spend in the store, had felt like two hours. 

Sherlock was just about to lose it completely, when he saw the queue for paying, but Mrs Hudson had calmed him down. And now they were finally back on Baker Street, with groceries enough to feed an army, which, Sherlock reminded himself, John had once been a member, so it would probably be okay.

“Are you sure, I shouldn’t help you,” Mrs Hudson asked and glared nervously on the three bags full of food on the kitchen table. 

“Yes, I screwed up, I will make it good again, but I appreciate you help, I really do!” he said, and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Ever since he first met Mrs Hudson, she had been like a mother too him, so kissing her on the cheek, didn’t feel weird or wrong at all. 

Yet she always became a little flustered, because she sometimes forgot how much she cared about him, and how he was like the child she never had. “Oh Sherlock how sweet, John will really appreciate it, I’m sure! But promise me, if you need help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you Mrs Hudson I will.”

“The recipe is on the table dear, good luck!” and then she left him, and went down to her own flat. 

Sherlock was a bit lost at first too say it the least. He looked at all the ingredients, then on the recipe, and then back on the ingredients. Suddenly it hit him, this was just like one big experiment, and he was good at making experiments. Yes, that would work, and soon enough a lovely smell spread in 221B.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a long day and John hadn’t been able to concentrate properly on his patients. He kept beating himself about how he hadn’t been very nice to Sherlock this morning. After all it wasn’t his fault that John couldn’t find his jumper. It wasn’t fair towards Sherlock, but every time John was around him, he couldn’t control any emotions. 

Why oh why did he have to fall in love with someone so way out of his league? Because Sherlock was way out of his league on almost all possible levels. He was younger than John; he was possibly the most beautiful human being to have ever walked this earth, and his intellect was almost superhuman. 

So John had long since concluded that Sherlock would never love anyone, and especially not a retired army doctor with whom he shared a flat. 

Still John decided he had to make up for his outburst this morning. He knew Sherlock was a sucker for cakes and desserts so on his way home, he bought Sherlock’s favourite, tiramisu from Angelo’s. Well he didn’t exactly buy it, because as always Angelo insisted on giving him it for free. 

When he stepped through the door at Baker Street, the loveliest smell reached him. It was probably Mrs Hudson cooking something incredible delicious, and John had to admit that he was tempted to pay her a visit. Maybe she would offer him some?

“No”, he reminded himself. Tonight he had to make it up to Sherlock. Even though it probably meant takeaway and a sulking consulting detective. Hopefully the tiramisu would make him in a better mood.

He walked up the seventeen steps, slightly limping as he always did when he was nervous, bloody leg! 

When he had reached the door to their flat, that amazing smell from before was even stronger. 

It sure couldn’t be Sherlock cooking, could it? No, he was hungry and therefore he imagined things that weren’t true. Of course the smell wasn’t stronger here, his mind was playing tricks with him. 

He was surprised. When he walked into the kitchen, he saw Sherlock cooking. Actually cooking and producing that lovely smell. 

“Sherlock?” he asked, “Sherlock are you cooking?”

“Uhm yes, I am uhm cooking,” Sherlock answered him. 

“But you’ve never cooked before, not as long as I’ve known you?”

“Yes, I know, but… But I felt really bad for sulking at you this morning! Of course I should have helped you find your jumper! That’s what flatmates do, I’m so sorry John, please forgive me?” Sherlock burst out.

“Forgive you? If anyone should ask for forgiveness it’s me! I shouldn’t expect you to keep track of my stuff. It was wrong of me to be angry with you! But I brought this, I hope it’ll make it a bit better,” John said placing the bag from Angelo’s on the table.

Sherlock face lit up, both because of the tiramisu, but also because he was so happy and relieved that John wasn’t angry with him.

They sat down to eat the food Sherlock had made.

“My God this is amazing! Where did you learn this?” John exclaimed impressed. 

“Well, I… I’ve never actually cooked before, but it’s really just like doing experiments, don’t worry I haven’t put anything poisonous in it,” he added when he saw the look on John’s face.

John relaxed and they finished their meal. Then they went straight for the dessert, Sherlock stuffing his mouth to the absolute maximum. 

“Sherlock?” John said.

“Mmh,” Sherlock answered his mouth full of tiramisu.

“I really am truly sorry about this morning! You didn’t need to do all this, I was the idiot, but I’m really glad you did! It was absolutely delicious!”

Sherlock felt himself blushing, how embarrassing in front of John. “I wasn’t exactly helping either, but when you left, I did find your jumper.”

He went to retrieve the neatly folded jumper from the living room.

“Fantastic!” John exclaimed, “Where did you find it?” 

“In the washing machine you probably forgot it when you were doing laundry last time. Wasn’t that when I dragged you along to look at that murdered family?”

“Yes, now that you mentioned it, I think it was. Well thank you anyway! I might want to forget my jumpers in the washing machine more often if it leads to you making such delicious food again!” 

Sherlock didn’t think it was possible for him to blush anymore than he already did, once again John Watson proved that he seemed more in control of Sherlock’s body functions, than the consulting detective himself.

It wasn’t even 9 o’clock yet, but Sherlock’s body definitely told him it was time to go to bed. So he bid John goodnight, and retreated to his room. 

**************

While John did the dishes, he kept repeating the evening in his head. 

Sherlock had cooked for him, actually cooked for him. He wanted to hold on to this night forever, because John knew this would be the closest thing to a date he would ever have with the great Sherlock Holmes.

How he wished he could be in that bedroom with him right now, hold him in his arms, stroking those black curls, knowing Sherlock was his, John’s and none others. 

But that would never happen, he reminded himself, Sherlock had said so himself: “I consider myself married to my work and while I’m flattered…” The memory still hurt him, and when he glanced at the bag from Angelo’s he couldn’t help but get really angry with himself.

Why did he have to fall in love with someone like Sherlock? Someone so amazing and out of the ordinary? Why was he so ordinary himself? Why wasn’t he on the same level as Sherlock? 

He went to his room, tears streaming down his face. His room! Why his room? It should be their room! All these negative feelings filling him up as he threw himself on the bed and cried his eyes out like a teenage girl who had just been ditched by her boyfriend. 

Tears kept flooding from his eyes, and he didn’t seem to be able to stop it. He hadn’t cried like this in a very long time. That was when he heard someone knocking at his bedroom door.

“John?” someone asked through the door.

“Sherlock?” John answered, his voice croaking from all the crying. 

“John? Wait what? Are you okay? What’s with your voice, do you need help? Shall I come in?”

“NO, no I’m fine you just woke me up that’s all. What do you want?” John said nervously, for the love of God, Sherlock could never find out he was crying over him, then their friendship would be over for good.

“Lestrade has just texted, another family has been murdered.”

“Shit, okay give me five minutes and I’ll be there.” 

He heard Sherlock walk down the stairs to the living room. Great, now he had five minutes to make himself look absolutely normal. He glanced at himself in the mirror; this was going to be difficult.

Five minutes later he found himself in the living room, looking okay considering he was crying his eyes out less than ten minutes ago. Sherlock of course noticed that John eyes seemed to be redder than usual, but he didn’t comment. 

Together they left 221b, both wanting to take the other mans hand. None of them dared to, so instead they looked into the night, each putting on the best poker face they could muster, and went to hail a cab.


	4. Chapter 4

When they arrived at the crime scene, Lestrade came towards them.

“Thanks for coming Sherlock, this case is not making to much sense. We can’t find the murder weapon, we don’t have any suspects and there doesn’t seem to be any motive at all. The victims are Jacob and Clara Smith, and their son Emmett,” Lestrade told them, clearly frustrated.

“I’m sure I’ll find whoever did this,” Sherlock smirked, sounding more confident than he actually felt. 

Truth was, Sherlock didn’t have a clue. This must be the first time ever, when the great consulting detective Sherlock Holmes were completely blank. Nevertheless he couldn’t show how confused he actually was, Anderson and Donovan alone would be a complete pain in the ass and he would probably never hear the end of it. But it wasn’t Anderson and Donovan he worried about the most. No, it was someone whom Sherlock wished to impress far more, John. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, those little outbreaks John came with, whenever Sherlock had done something spectacular, was what Sherlock strived to get. He would hold onto them for days and weeks, have them replay in his head constantly: “Fantastic! Brilliant! Absolutely amazing!”

That was why Sherlock didn’t tell anyone at the crime scene that he was completely utterly lost. Instead he proceeded to take a look at the bodies. 

It wasn’t so different from the last crime scene, three bodies, man, wife and their 4-year old son. Throats slit just like the first victims, and again the families seemed to be pretty normal. 

To his left, John bowed his head and stared at the ground. Sherlock knew that John had a difficult time, whenever they were dealing with children. He was such a good and noble man, and Sherlock wished he could just take him in his arms, hug him, kiss him and make him feel better! And when they got home they could… 

“NO!” Sherlock almost yelled in his own head. He had to concentrate on the bodies and he had to do it quick, because it was quite obvious that John wasn’t comfortable about the situation. Sherlock therefore turned his attention to the bodies and he started deducing:

“First victim is a male around 30 years of age, industrial worker judging by his hands, used to serve in the military. The other one is a female about the same age, presumably the first victims wife, shop worker, quiet type and yet she’s being unfaithful…”

“Hang on a second, how do you know? How can you possibly know she’s cheating on him?” John interrupted him.

“The perfume, John, she is wearing another mans perfume, and judging by the fact that the smell is in her clothes as well, I would say she’s been seeing him for quite a while. Now if I may continue?”

“Sure, sure! Wow amazing!”

Sherlock secretly smirked at the compliment and went on: “The last victim is a boy, 4-years of age, generally happy, but the male victim isn’t the child’s father.” 

“What… “ John began, but Sherlock cut him off.

“The genetics, John, honestly you’re a doctor, you’re supposed to notice these things! The boy and the male don’t share any similarities at all. The mother’s lover is probably the father.” 

John knew Sherlock insulted people all the time, hell the man didn’t do anything else, but it still hurt him deeply! In the beginning it was just annoying, but as the months went by, the insults stuck with him, burned into his soul. 

He felt a lump forming in his throat and he was very well aware that his voice would crack, should he even attempt to speak. He therefore kept his mouth shut, trying to focus on Sherlock’s deductions, but found it hard to concentrate. 

When Sherlock finally finished, John was very ready to go home! He was exhausted, and all he wanted right now was some silence and sleep. Lestrade gave them the last details, and they were free to go. 

Sherlock was very exited about this new turn of events. This made the cab drive home very long for a certain ex-army doctor. 

“Can you believe it, John? Three more bodies! It’s like Christmas! Both killings involved families, John! And an unfaithful wife! It’s motive, John!

“Yeah, Sherlock, that’s all fine, but maybe you should take it a notch down!” John bit at him, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.

“What, why? I mean it’s good for the investigation?” Sherlock answered, the joy he had felt moment’s ago draining from his body.

John didn’t mean to, but he snapped: “People have died, Sherlock, actual people! A little kid died! He was 4, Sherlock! So don’t act like it’s fucking Christmas okay?!” 

“I-I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to…” 

“Forget it, just shut up!”

The rest of the cab drive took place in absolute silence, Sherlock didn’t dare to look at John, he knew he had screwed up! He hadn’t meant to, it just sort of happened. It was the rush of adrenaline Sherlock always felt, when he had done something clever, when there had been a good murder and he just had to show it to the world.

So now John was angry with him, again, for the second time today, Sherlock had managed to piss off the man he was in love with.

“Brilliant Sherlock, very smooth! Now John definitely hates you! You’re an idiot Sherlock! You will never be loved Sherlock! Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock everyone hates you Sherlock!” These negative thoughts seeped through his whole body, every muscle, every vein, and Sherlock felt like he was going to be sick! He breathed in deeply to try and gain control of his body. He was NOT going to throw up all over John, he simply wasn’t!

So when the cab finally pulled up at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock rushed out, leaving John to pay the fare. He almost ran up the stairs and locked himself inside the bathroom. He then proceeded to being sick, throwing up with a force he didn’t even think was possible! When he had finally finished, he walked to his room, falling heavily down onto the bed.

Sherlock was absolutely disgusted with himself! Not because he had thrown up (though he had to admit it wasn’t very pleasant either), but because he had yet again disappointed John. What was wrong with him? 

Now all he wanted was to forget about this stupid day, well not all of it of course! The dinner had been really nice, almost like a date! He was very careful in storing this particular memory to his mind palace, willing to keep it forever! But in someway it also made him a little sad, because he would probably never get closer to a date with John Watson… 

But even though it was just a couple of hours ago, the dinner already seemed ages away. To top it off, he couldn't even curl up with one of John’s jumpers like he usually did when he was sad, because he hadn’t dared to ‘borrow’ one since the unfortunate incident this morning. 

So here he was, feeling more miserable than ever and he knew this was going to be a long night!


	5. Chapter 5

As Sherlock had predicted, this had been a very long and bad night. He hadn’t slept at all, because he had missed John’s scent. He had missed being able to pretend that it was the man himself lying in his arms! 

Sherlock of course had spent plenty of nights getting no sleep, but this was different, because this time it wasn’t his choice. This time he had actually wished to sleep, to forget, but his body had simply refused. It was these thoughts that convinced Sherlock that he couldn’t handle another night like this, he simply couldn’t! 

That was when he heard scrambling noises from the kitchen. Great, now he had to go face John, he was willing to bet all he owned that there would be some signs as to how bad he had slept. Yet he dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen.

“Good morning Sherl… Wow you look horrible!” John exclaimed.

“Very good deduction, John.” Sherlock really wasn’t in the mood for this conversation.

“What happened to you? And why did you just disappear last night? I came back, and you had just gone to bed? What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing, I was just tired okay? But I didn’t sleep very well.”

“But you’re never tired? You usually go for days without sleep! How come this night makes you look so horrible?”

“Not for any particular reason. Just drop it.” 

“But…”

“I said drop it, John!” Sherlock snarled.

“Okay, sorry grumpy! I’ll go to work then jeez…”

He went to get his jacket and went out the door. A heavy silence fell all over their flat, and Sherlock’s heart fell with it. He hadn’t meant to snap, but he couldn’t keep doing this. 

Sherlock waited around 5 minutes, to make sure John didn’t come back; he then went up to John’s room, going straight to the closet where John kept his jumpers. He let his hand trail through the soft material that made all the jumpers, while he was trying to decide which one to “borrow.” 

The sand coloured one was of course not an option; John would grow suspicious. Shame really, it had become Sherlock’s favourite, the one who reminded him most of John. He finally decided upon the blue Christmas one with red and white pattern, since they were only in November, John probably wouldn’t notice. 

His head needed sleep and he knew it! He had intended to go to his own bedroom, but he didn’t make it further than the couch. Sherlock curled up, jumper in his arms, and immediately fell into a deep comforting sleep. 

He woke several hours later completely rested and glanced at the clock. It was almost five. “SHIT!” Sherlock thought. John could be home in less than 15 minutes, and he simply wasn’t ready to face him. He didn’t want to discuss their little morning encounter, not when he had just woken from the most amazing sleep with dreams about John. 

He hastily threw the jumper into the box he usually stored them in, but in the hurry, Sherlock left the box fully visible on the floor. However he didn’t notice this and went to get his jacket and scarf. Sherlock left 221B with the intention of going to Bart’s; he might as well get a look at the newly found bodies. Little did he know what awaited him when he got home. 

**************

John had been wondering all day why Sherlock had been so moody this morning. Of course Sherlock was always moody, but that usually wasn’t because of lost sleep. Usually he would go for days without sleeping at all until John practically forced him. 

He knew he had to talk to Sherlock about this; hopefully the detective had slept a bit while he was gone. That would make him a bit easier to talk too, but John didn’t have high hopes. 

Therefore he was quite surprised to find their flat completely empty, no sign of his sulking flatmate anywhere. 

“Sherlock?” he called. No answer.

“Sherlock?” John raised his voice a little. Still no answer.

Where could he be? John thought to himself. Maybe he’s sleeping? John crossed the living room walking towards Sherlock’s door. He knocked lightly.

“Sherlock, are you in there?” he called through the door. Nobody answered him. 

Maybe he should check, just to be sure whether Sherlock was just sleeping to heavy to hear him. He opened the door, careful not to make to much noise. But when he stepped inside, the consulting detective was nowhere to be seen. 

He was just about to leave the Sherlock’s bedroom, when he spotted a box on the floor. “Odd, I haven’t seen that one before?” John thought lifting the box onto the bed. He was just about to open it, when something hit him. This was Sherlock’s box, probably containing some of Sherlock’s things. Maybe even something very personal, since John hadn’t seen the box before. It would probably be best to just leave it. 

But on the other hand, one little look couldn’t hurt; it wasn’t like Sherlock was going to find out. Yes, he was way too curios to leave it. 

When John opened the box, he was surprised. He didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not this. The box contained one of his jumpers, his Christmas one to be specific. 

Anger slowly began building up inside him. It was Sherlock all the time. Sherlock had lied to him. He had made that amazing dinner only because he had been the one nicking his jumpers. His thoughts were erupted by his phone, telling him he had received a text. From Sherlock.

Examining the bodies at Bart’s.   
Might be late. Don’t wait up.

\- SH

John had to use all his strength to not call the bastard and yell at him. Instead he wrote back:

No. You will get home right now.

\- JW

Box in hand he went to the living room, even if he had to wait all night for Sherlock to get home, he would do it. They needed to talk. 

**************

Sherlock was surprised when he received the text from John. There was an angry tone to it, but John couldn’t be angry because he hadn’t slept, could he? Sherlock had planned to stay late at the morgue, but something told him that he’d better get home as soon as possible. Therefore he went to hail a cab and drove the short distance to their flat. 

When he opened the door to 221B Baker Street, there was quite a cold and tense atmosphere, but Sherlock brushed it off at nothing. 

“Hello John, sorry I wasn’t home, I had to…” Sherlock paused mid-sentence his eyes widening. John was sat in his armchair facing him, an angry look on his face, but even worse by John’s feet was the box. His box. The one containing… oh god no! 

“Care to explain Sherlock?” John asked, fighting to keep his voice calm.

“I… Uhm I…?” This was the only thing that never could have happened, and yet here he was, facing a very angry ex-army doctor. He had to lie, that was the only solution. John couldn’t know the truth! He would most definitely move out. 

“It’s… it’s for an experiment.” Sherlock muttered, unable to come up with a better explanation. 

“Ah, I see. An experiment. And you didn’t think to tell me? You didn’t think I should know? No, of course not. The great consulting detective Sherlock Holmes doesn’t need permission. He doesn’t need anyone because of his massive intellect! And especially not his retired army doctor flatmate! From whom he just happened to borrow a jumper? And not just that one, the sand coloured one as well, am I right? I didn’t forget it in the washing machine did I? Because you took it didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

John was practically yelling now. He had to try and explain, without telling John the truth.

“I… you see, it was just because…”

“And the dinner Sherlock. That wasn’t because you had been sulking was it? No, you would never do that! You sulk all the time! Why would you be especially sorry about this time? Because you where feeling guilty. Guilty for nicking my stuff! How long Sherlock? Please just tell me how long.”

“4 months.” The detective mumbled, guilt washing over him filling him up.

“4 MONTHS?! What experiment could POSSIBLY take 4 MONTHS?!”

“It was uhm… Look I didn’t mean to take your stuff, I’ll leave it alone from now on, I promise.”

“Look Sherlock, this is not about my stuff, this is about you taking my stuff without my permission! This is about you not respecting me! Dammit Sherlock I thought I could trust you!”  
“Of course you can trust me, John!”

“Well nice job at proving it!” John went to get his bomber jacket. 

“Wait, where are you going?!” Sherlock asked, the guilty feeling being replaced by panic.

“Out!” John said furiously as he slammed the door behind him. 

Sherlock was left completely speechless in their flat, alone and dumbstruck. What if John never came back? He probably wouldn’t. 

Not knowing what to do, he dragged his body to the couch, lay down in foetal position hoping this was just a dream, his mind telling him it wasn’t. John Watson was gone, because he, Sherlock, had broken his trust. 

He swore there and then that he would never take something of Johns ever again, that was of course if John decided to come back. Sherlock wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, and he became more and more certain that John Watson had disappeared out of his life forever.


	6. Chapter 6

John slammed the door angrily behind him as he left his home. The home he shared with Sherlock. The man he happened to be in love with. The man who had just proved to John, how little respect he had for him. How little he actually cared about him. And it broke John’s heart. 

In reality he was more hurt, than he was angry. He had really trusted Sherlock, and the man couldn’t even answer his question properly. An experiment he had said. Was that all John was reduced to? A provider of things for Sherlock’s experiments? Was that all he meant to Sherlock? 

John had walked a couple of streets away from Baker Street, and with every step he took, his limp became worse. Damn leg! He thought to himself. 

That was when he noticed the black Mercedes, who had been following him for last ten minutes. 

Great! As if it wasn’t enough he was angry with Sherlock, now Mycroft had to interfere as well. He had probably seen it all through one of his damn cameras in their flat. If there was anyone John really didn’t want to talk to right now, it was Sherlock’s nosy big brother.

“Go away, Mycroft!” He said angrily looking at the car. The car didn’t leave. 

He started walking again, the car followed. Simply fantastic! Mycroft probably wasn’t going to leave him alone. He might as well get it over with, so he went over to the car and stepped inside.

**************

“Sherlock, what are you doing? You’ve been lying there for three hours straight now. Where’s John?” Mrs Hudson said and came over to him. 

“John is gone. Forever.”

“Aren’t you exaggerating a bit dear?” 

“No, I broke his trust, and now he’ll probably never come back.”

“Now you’re just being silly. You two are friends!”

“Most likely not anymore.”

“What can you have done, to upset John so much, he doesn’t want to see you anymore?”

And then he told Mrs Hudson everything. How he’d nicked John’s jumpers, how John had found out, and then left him.

“I’m sure he’ll be good again, he just need some time, dear. After all it’s John we’re talking about, he can’t be mad at you for a long time. You two need each other. But maybe you should tell him why you took them, dear.”

“No, no I can’t do that! Then he’ll most definitely leave! He doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend, maybe not even a friend anymore after what happened.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, I think John has more feelings for you, than you know of.”

“Has your female instinct told you that?”

“Sherlock Holmes, don’t make fun of my female instinct! I’m only trying to help!” 

“I’m sorry Mrs H, I just really don’t know what to do about all this. And I’m really scared I’ll never get to see John again.”

“I know, but I’m sure he’ll come back soon!”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, now get up and do something instead of feeling sorry for yourself! But no shooting my walls!”

“You got it Mrs H!” He smiled at her for the first time since John had left. 

Sherlock therefore spread the case file all over their living room floor in an attempt to occupy his mind. It actually helped a little bit, even though he was still upset about John. Soon he was completely lost in the case, making deductions trying to put everything together.

When he got absorbed in a case like this, Sherlock had no sense of time. He wasn’t even aware it had grown dark outside, until his phone rang and broke his concentration. The name John Watson flashed on the display, and eager to talk to him, Sherlock put the phone to his ear. 

“Hello John? I’m sorry! Can you please come h…” The person at the other end of the line interrupted him, but it wasn’t John. 

“Mr Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective I presume?”

“Yes, that’s me, but where is John? Why do you have John’s phone?” Sherlock was starting to panic now, why did someone else call him from John’s phone?

“John is a bit tied up right now, aren’t you John?” Someone clearly moved in the background.

“Let him go!”

“Oh, I can’t do that I’m afraid. But if you’re willing to come and get him, you shall be more than welcome. How about this: John and I will meet you in the alley behind St. Mary’s Church in one hour. You come alone, your friends from Scotland Yard aren’t invited. I don’t have to give you the whole ‘or else he’ll die speech’ do I? Since you’re a genius, you must have figured that out already.”

≈≈ Call disconnected ≈≈ 

Sherlock stared at the phone. Did he just hear what he thought he’d heard? Did someone take John? His John? The only person Sherlock loved? He had to get John back. There was no doubt in Sherlock’s mind when he grabbed his coat and scarf, determined that he would not return to 221B Baker Street without his friend and blogger John Watson. 

**************

An hour later Sherlock stood in the alley behind St. Mary’s Church and waited. Where were they? Unfortunately John had brought his gun with him, when he left, so Sherlock had no weapon. 

A rustling sound behind him made his muscles tense. He turned around. It was just a cat. “Relax Sherlock, you’ve faced criminals plenty of times before!” 

And he had, more than he could count, but this time it was different, this time John’s life was at stake. Only that time at the swimming pool with Moriarty, had it been so. But then, Sherlock didn’t know it would be, when he came, Moriarty had surprised him. This time he knew what was at risk. This time he knew he loved John, and no matter what he couldn’t lose him, he simply couldn’t! 

“Mr Sherlock Holmes, how nice of you to join our little party.” The voice interrupted his thoughts. It came from behind him, and when Sherlock turned around he recognised the person immediately. 

“Jeffrey Morris. Of course, you murdered your wife and child 12 years ago. It was you all the time, wasn’t it? You murdered those families.”

“Well done Sherlock, very impressive. I’ve been imprisoned for 12 years, because you put me there. So naturally I decided to seek my revenge once I got out.” 

“But why kill all those innocent people? They didn’t deserve to die!”

“So you say Mr Holmes, but we all know you love a good murder. It was the best way to lure you out. And to be honest? It really wasn’t that hard.”

“But why those people, what did they… Oh.” Suddenly it hit him. “The wives were unfaithful, just like yours, weren’t they? And they all got a child with their lover, didn’t they? Let me take a wild guess, your wife got your child with someone else didn’t she?”

“Once again you’ve proved your cleverness Mr Holmes, yes, my wife was unfaithful, and when I found out that our son wasn’t mine, I killed them both. And you got me locked up for it! For doing justice!”

“I got you locked up, because you’re a raving lunatic and a murderer, now please let me and my friend go.”

“Ah your friend. John Watson isn’t it? Yes, I almost forgot about him, wait a minute.” 

Jeffrey got behind one of the dumpster, and when he came back, he was dragging someone behind him. That certain someone being John Watson. A very unconscious John Watson to be exact.

“Now, what shall we do with John here? Oh I know, let’s have some fun. But I warn you, Sherlock. If you as much as move a centimetre, John Watson is a dead man, are we clear?”

To emphasize his words, Jeffrey drew out a gun, John’s gun, and pointed it straight at John’s heart.

“It’s almost a shame he isn’t awake don’t you think?” 

He lifted his foot from the ground, and planted it in John’s face. Sherlock could hear his nose break, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t risk it, so instead he bit his lip to stop himself from screaming.   
Soft moans of pain escaped John’s mouth, as he began to regain consciousness. 

“Wakey, wakey Johnny boy.” Morris said, a nasty grin spreading across his face. 

John vision was blurred, but he recognised that voice, hell he probably never would be able to forget it. 

“Go to hell.” John whispered through gritted teeth.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice. I’m afraid I can’t tolerate that.” 

Sherlock didn’t like the sound of those words, and soon enough Jeffrey decided to go rampage on John’s body. He started torturing him, and Sherlock had no choice but to stand and watch. When John started screaming in pain, Sherlock finally had enough. 

“Stop.” He muttered, barely audible.

“What was that? You want me to stop? Why didn’t you just say so?”

Without warning he fired the gun. And even worse, he fired the gun straight into John’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the cliff hanger my lovelies! I'll try to get the next chapter done soon!^^ 
> 
> Once again thanks to the always amazing Johnlock_WatsonHolmes for reading and correcting my stuff!^^


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies!! I'm so terribly sorry for leaving you with a cliffhanger and wait so long to update, but school demanded my attention. Anyway here it it, I hope you like it^^ And once again thank you to Johnlock_WatsonHolmes, my very own personal John, for reading my story and correcting my silly mistakes :3

“JOHN!” Sherlock’s scream echoed through the dark alley, as he watched Morris shoot his best friend. 

“And now Sherlock, now that you have watched your little pet die, the same will happen to you. Oh and the best part is, everybody will think you killed each other, isn’t that wonderful? The famous detective and his blogger killing each other, that will be quite a good headline, don’t you think?”

“People will never believe you! Even Scotland Yard would be able to figure it out!”

“Oh, but people don’t have to believe me, Sherlock, they just have to look at the evidence. For example John holding a pistol, who has just been fired, and you being the only person nearby to have been shot.”   
He bent down and placed the gun he had just used to shoot John in said persons hand. Then he brought out another gun from his jacket and pointed it at Sherlock. 

“Well, Mr Holmes, this has been very interesting, but I’m afraid we have to say goodbye now.”

Bang.

Sherlock had heard the shot, but he didn’t feel any pain. He looked down at himself; there was no bullet wound. Then he looked back at Jeffrey, who had sunk to the ground. Where had that come from? Sherlock looked at the wound and calculated the person who had fired would be just around where…

“JOHN!” He exclaimed, it had been John who shot. Sherlock hurried to his side.

“John, John can you hear me, JOHN?!” 

John opened his eyes slightly to look into that beautiful face looking down at him, worry in every feature. He had to tell him, this might be the last chance he had. 

“Sher… Sh… Sherlock. I-I… I lo..” and then John passed out.

“JOHN! No, John! Stay with me, please!”

Sherlock pressed his hands at the bullet wound to stop the blood from flowing; he couldn’t let John die, no, no NO! He heard sirens close by, and soon an ambulance stopped next to him. Sherlock hadn’t called one, but he was happy to see it. He’d figure it out later, right now only one thing mattered, John. 

Paramedics rushed towards him, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t let go. Arms grabbed him from behind, and dragged him away from John. Sherlock fought back with all his might, not willing to let himself being separated from John.

“Sherlock, you have to let them do their work. Calm down Sherlock.” 

Sherlock looked up into the worried face of detective inspector Lestrade. 

“No, NO! I have to help him! He’s my friend please!”

They were now loading John into the ambulance, and Sherlock tried with all his might to get free from Lestrades grip, but the DI held him tight. 

“No, Sherlock, you can’t go with him! You’ll only be in the way.”

“But, but…”

“No, come on, I’ll drive you to the hospital, we’ll meet them there. If we drive now, we can be there just before them, now come on.”

When Sherlock finally stopped fighting, Lestrade loosened his grip, wrapped a shock blanket around him and guided him to the police car. 

Sherlock collapsed in the backseat and wrapped the blanket tight around him. Now he understood why there was such a thing as a shock blanket. It gave him somewhat of a comfort, and Sherlock imagined that it instead was one of John’s jumpers. 

John. Sweet, loving John was currently fighting for his life all because of Sherlock. The guilt was overwhelming and he hid his face in the blanket. 

When they arrived, Lestrade guided Sherlock to the reception just as John arrived. Sherlock only caught a glimpse of him, before they wheeled him towards operation. 

Sherlock wanted to follow, but Lestrade forced him into a chair instead. He was too exhausted to put up a real fight, so he just sat down and pulled his legs up under him. After some time, Lestrade broke the silence. 

“Sherlock? Sherlock, you might want to change your clothes.” 

“I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because… The blood is…” Sherlock didn’t seem to be able to say it, so Lestrade finished for him. 

“The blood is John’s?” Sherlock nodded and looked at his hands.  
“Listen, Sherlock. John is in the best possible hands; you’ve done what you could. Now come on, I’ll help you wash and get changed.”

He helped Sherlock into some clean, borrowed clothes and washed his hands thoroughly to get rid of all the blood. Then he wrapped him in the shock blanket and they sat back down in the slightly uncomfortable waiting room chairs. 

Half an hour later Mrs Hudson showed up. She rushed towards Sherlock and hugged him tight. He wanted to say something to her, but he couldn’t find any words. Instead he just hugged back for a moment and then sat back down in his chair. 

Sherlock had almost dozed off, when a new visitor arrived, Mycroft.

“What do you want?” Sherlock snarled at his brother, he really wasn’t in the mood for the usual ‘I told you not to get emotionally invested’ talk.

“I just came to support my little brother, if you don’t mind.”

“No you didn’t. How do you even know what’s happened?”

“Who do you think send the ambulance?”

“The ambulance? Did you? But how did you know.”

“I have your phone under surveillance. When I heard your conversation with the killer, I phoned DI Lestrade and told him to be ready with an ambulance in case you two did something stupid and dangerous, which it turned out you did.”

“You can’t just listen to my phone conversations.”

“But it may have saved John’s life. Please Sherlock, just this once will you let me be your big brother?” 

What Sherlock did next was quite unexpected to everyone. He got up from his chair and hugged Mycroft. Actually hugged him. At first he was a bit startled, but eventually Mycroft hugged back. 

“Just this once. Don’t you dare mention this ever again!” Sherlock snarled, secretly pleased for an opportunity to crease Mycroft’s suit.   
“Oh brother dear, you know I’ll never do such thing.” Mycroft smiled at Sherlock, storing this moment for blackmailing Sherlock later on, whenever he was being stubborn. 

Just then they were interrupted by one the nurses.

“John Watson is ready to see you now.”


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock had wanted to see John, but he wasn’t quite prepared when he stepped into the room. There were wires and tubes everywhere, hooking John up to monitors and oxygen. He looked so small and vulnerable lying in the hospital bed. 

Lestrade put a comforting hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him forward towards John. He was guided to an uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed and for the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes was speechless. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off John and he just wanted to scream and tell him to wake up, but he couldn’t find the words. In the end he just settled for holding his hand.

The others had stepped to the back, allowing Sherlock some space. It was a nice thought, but he could hear them whisper in the background and it annoyed him, mostly because he knew they were talking about either him or John and he didn’t know which was worse. 

The doctor came into the room, informing them about John’s injuries. Sherlock wasn’t really listening, what did it matter anyway?

“Will he be alright?” Sherlock interrupted in the middle of the doctor’s irrelevant speech.

“Well, we can’t know for sure, but we’ll do everything we can. He’s stable for now.” The doctor answered.

“That’s not good enough! You have to do something! You need to get him through this! You can’t just stand by and watch like a bunch of idiots! Aren’t you supposed to be doctors!?” Sherlock was almost yelling now.

“Sherlock!” Mycroft gave him a stern look. “They’re doing what they can.”

“I don’t care Mycroft! They need to do better!” 

Mycroft sensed that now wasn’t the time to argue with his little brother, so instead he said to the doctor: 

“I’m sorry for my brother’s behaviour. He’s a little upset right now. Please excuse him”

“That’s perfectly alright. We see quite often that friends and family gets upset when their loved ones is admitted.” 

“I. am. Not. Upset.” Sherlock interrupted. 

“Sure.” The doctor waved him off and continued his boring monologue, but Sherlock had stopped listening. 

He focused his attention back to John, wishing that they would all just leave. The doctor gave them the last pieces of information, saying that they could just call if they needed help. 

After a couple of minutes, Mrs Hudson said that she better get home. She went and hugged him, telling him to call if he needed anything. Sherlock nodded, grateful that she had apparently sensed his need to be alone.

To his relief, Lestrade offered her a ride home and Mycroft said that he had some important business to take care of. With a promise that they would be back in the morning, the three of them left Sherlock alone with his best friend.

When the room fell silent, Sherlock got proper time to think. He had made John angry and because of this, John was now in coma fighting for his life. Sherlock had never in his entire life felt so guilty and he just hoped that John would wake up so he could tell him how sorry he was. 

He brushed a strand of hair away from John’s face and in that moment he promised himself that when John woke up, because he simply had to, Sherlock would tell him that he loved him, damn the consequences. 

It hadn’t been his intention to fall asleep, after all he didn’t need much sleep, but somehow his body had simply decided that he was too exhausted to stay awake. So when he woke the next morning with his head on top of John’s covers, he was confused at first. Where was he? And then he looked at John and it all came back to him, the case and John being tortured and shot by Morris. 

The day went by with doctors and nurses constantly walked in and out of the private room to check on John and regulate the painkillers. Mrs Hudson and Lestrade came later in the afternoon bringing a pot of soup and tiramisu for him, but Sherlock wasn’t hungry and refused to eat. 

Over the next couple of days they tried several different tactics to get him to consume some food, but Sherlock stood his ground. It wasn’t until Mrs Hudson on the fourth day of John’s admittance told him:

“Sherlock Holmes. Now you eat what we’ve brought for you. John would be furious if he knew you hadn’t eaten for four days. And you don’t want him to be furious when he wakes up will you? It’s not good for him to get his temper up when he’s this ill. Now eat.” 

The thought of making John angry with him possibly make him even worse, made Sherlock accept the food she had brought for him and despite his previous statement of not being hungry, he ate it all. 

Mrs Hudson looked pleased and patted him on the back. 

“Don’t worry, John is strong. He will wake up and then I suggest you admit how you feel about him. He should know.” 

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he never wants to see me anymore?” Sherlock finally revealed what had been troubling him for so long.

“I don’t think it will come to that. But that would be his choice. Under all circumstances you can’t keep up doing this. It will drive you both crazy. Tell him dear, you might be surprised.” 

Sherlock nodded, even though he really didn’t believe it. He knew he was an annoying git and he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to be with him. True, John was the only one who had ever considered him as a friend, but that didn’t mean he would want to actually be with him.   
Besides, Sherlock reminded himself, John had said more than once that he wasn’t gay. To approximately everyone who assumed they were a couple. He was already starting to regret his promise of telling him, but he knew Mrs Hudson was right. John deserved to know. 

**************

It was a little over a week after John’s admittance. Sherlock hadn’t left him, not even to change clothes, which resulted in him looking quite horrible. He didn’t care; he wasn’t going to leave John for something so unimportant as hygiene. What if he woke up while he was gone?

He could feel the worried gazes of Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and Mycroft who stood in the back and whispered about him. 

Late in the afternoon John’s doctor came into the room and cleared his throat. 

“I’m afraid Dr Watson hasn’t improved like we had hoped and it doesn’t seem likely that he will wake from his coma. The most decent thing would be to turn off the respirator…”

“NO!” Sherlock interrupted him.

“That’s out of the question! I won’t allow it!” He spread out his arms as if to protect John.

The doctor tried to talk to him, but he refused to listen.

“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAVE HIM! IT’S YOUR JOB!” He yelled, this simply couldn’t be happening. 

That was when Mrs Hudson stepped in and told the others to leave and let her talk in private with Sherlock. When they were alone, she looked at him with a truly sorrowful expression.

“Now listen Sherlock, I know this is not what any of us had hoped, but we have to face reality.” She said gently.

“But they can’t just…” 

“Look Sherlock, there is nothing to do. This is just drawing out the pain for John. We should let him find peace. He deserves it.” 

Sherlock bit his lip, trying to hold back tears. He knew she was right, but the mere thought made him want to scream at the top of his lungs. Eventually he nodded and Mrs Hudson went to get the doctor. 

The others came back and the doctor looked at him with pity, couldn’t he just mind his own bloody business. He went over to the machinery and put his hand on the contact that would switch of the machine, which currently kept John breathing.

With one last look at them he pressed the button and turned off the respirator. They heard the heart rate monitor beep, indicating that John Watson was officially no longer alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm so sorry! But don't abandon the fix! Hang in there and I shall try to write the next chapter much faster than this one! But school and exams...


	9. Chapter 9

They stood in silence, before the others left Sherlock alone with John. Or at least he assumed they did, since he heard the door open and footsteps walking away. He just didn’t bother to look. 

Sherlock held John’s hand and brushed his forehead carefully. His beautiful and amazing friend. How could he have let him down so cruelly? If he hadn’t taken those blasted jumpers, none of this would have happened. Why did he always have to be so damn selfish?

He looked at the man in front of him. He had to say it. Even though he wouldn’t hear it and it wouldn’t really matter. Sherlock still thought that John deserved to know the truth. 

Somehow he really wanted to kiss him, but that would be weird even for him, and he probably wouldn’t be able to keep himself together if he tried. He would rather not know what it felt like, because he knew he would want to do it again. 

Instead he leaned in very close and whispered in his ear:

“I love you” He hoped that somehow it would go through to John, even though it was physically impossible. 

Then he placed his head in John’s lap and simply let the tears flow, not really caring that he probably both looked horrible and pathetic. He just wanted to take this opportunity to be sad, because he knew that it would most likely be his last moment with John.

**************

This was weird. It felt very strange. Almost as if he was flying, but somehow still bound. It was dark. He couldn’t see anything. It was freaky and it scared him. He wanted to yell and cry for help, but his mouth was completely locked and unable to speak.

He couldn’t move. He tried, but it seemed like he didn’t even know where his body was. What was even weirder was that he felt pain in various places of the body even though it was like it wasn’t there.

He stayed like that for a long time. It could be weeks or months or years, or maybe only hours or minutes, he wouldn’t be able to tell. 

There was a constant mumbling in the distance, but he could never really figure out what they were saying. That was until one time. His head had somehow become heavier, and he was finding it difficult to focus in his little dream world. The darkness was threatening to absorb him completely. It looked very promising. He could sense that it would free him from the pain he was constantly feeling. But then he had heard it. Even though it wasn’t very loud, the voice had been very clear in his head. It had only said three little words, but these words had alerted him. He knew the voice from somewhere, he just couldn’t figure out where from. Still it felt like this voice was important. Very important. He abandoned the promising darkness that was about to absorb him completely and instead he followed the voice. 

It lead him to somewhere much lighter and somewhat scarier than the darkness. It didn’t matter. He knew that this was where he belonged, together with the voice. He knew that if he stayed here in the light and eventually opened his eyes that voice would soon have a face. 

**************

“You look horrible”

“Go away Mycroft, I am really not in the mood for that.” Sherlock said with an unsteady voice. Why did his ignorant brother have to disturb him in this precious moment? 

But somehow it hadn’t sounded quite like Mycroft, but who else would comment in this situation? 

His face was still buried in John’s lap, not ready to look up just yet. He felt a hand ruffling his hair and he really couldn’t stand it. 

“Didn’t I tell you to go away and leave me alone?” He said irritated.

“I thought you would be happy to see me? After all I have been asleep for quite a while I think?”

“Why would I be happy to…” And then he registered what the voice had said. 

After having been asleep? Mycroft hadn’t been asleep had he? The only one he could think of having slept for a long time was… But it couldn’t be? Could it? But that was impossible? 

No, Sherlock you’re imagining things that isn’t there! He tried to reason his mind, but the hope that it really was John, made it impossible to think rationally. He wanted to look, but he was afraid that it really was just his imagination. 

“Nice to see you too” The voice said in that sarcastic tone only John could speak. 

This made Sherlock look up and stare into the eyes of his flatmate and best friend. They were open and looking back at him, lively and awake. 

“But.. But I don’t understand? How can you..? It’s impossible!” Sherlock exclaimed.

“Well if you’re that displeased I can just go back to sleep?” John responded.

“NO! I’m not displeased! I’m just confused. They pulled the plug! You were dead?!” 

“Well I’m not now, so everything should be fine”

“Is it really you?” Sherlock whispered.

“Even for you that’s a weird question. Of course it’s me! And you’re supposed to be a genius?” John gave him a big smile.

Sherlock couldn’t help but laugh through his tears. It really was John. His John. Awake and alive and Sherlock just couldn’t believe. John joined and when the others came into the room to see what the noise was all about, they found the two flatmates cracked up laughing with tears streaming down their faces. 

During the next couple of hours several doctors came to check on John and do all sorts of tests. They were all equally puzzled as to why he woke up.

In the evening they were finally left alone. Sherlock looked at John, still not able to understand how he managed to wake up, but grateful that he did. 

There was an awkward silence and Sherlock considered fulfilling his promise. But what if John didn’t feel the same way? What if it made him angry and he refused to see Sherlock again?

No, Sherlock thought, it could wait.


	10. Chapter 10

During the next couple of weeks, John got better, but it took a long time. Finally after three weeks in the hospital, he was allowed to go home.

A doctor came in and checked John over one last time before a nurse brought him a wheelchair and a walking cane. Sherlock could see the sadness in John’s face almost immediately and he knew that the other man was being reminded of the days when he had a psychosomatic limp.

“You’ll be fine John, we’ll figure it out” Sherlock gave him an encouraging smile.

“I know it’s just… Well it’s not exactly dignifying to have to use it again..” John looked away.

“It’s not permanent remember that. And who cares about dignity? You’re all right that’s all that matters!” Sherlock said firmly and squeezed John’s shoulder. He was tempted to hug him, but found that it would be weird and out of place.  
John looked up at him, was that really the great Sherlock Holmes speaking? “You sure about that?”

“Absolutely. Besides in the beginning I will be one of the only ones to see it anyway and I don’t mind. Now should we get out of here?” Sherlock offered him a hand.

John nodded and took the hand, trying to move himself out of bed, but realizing it was no good anyway. “I might need help..” He said bitterly and blushed; he so hated it when he couldn’t do things himself.

“No problem” Sherlock simply said and wrapped an arm around John, carefully helping him out of bed and into the wheelchair. “There we go, now let’s go home.”

He wheeled John down the hallway and out on the parking lot where a huge black Mercedes Bentz was waiting for them.

“My brother insisted on arranging transport. I don’t think he trusts me to take you in a cab, which is completely ridiculous of course, but at least we save the fee.” 

This earned a big smile from John, the first one Sherlock had seen in weeks and it made him so happy. This was John, his John. The John who smiled and laughed and told him to get his experiments out of the bloody fridge. They might never get together, but Sherlock knew that it was a privilege to even be able to call John his friend.

The driver helped Sherlock get John into the car and while he was loading the chair in the trunk, Sherlock leaned close to John and whispered in his ear:

“Bonus points if you manage to vomit in my brother’s car, the look on his face would be priceless.” 

John giggled “Sherlock!”

“What? You have a perfectly valid excuse?” Sherlock smirked, anything to amuse John. Of course annoying Mycroft would be a nice bonus too.

However, John didn’t throw up and when the car came to a halt at 221B, Sherlock hurried over and helped John into the chair. The driver asked if they needed assistance, but Sherlock waved him off. He knew John thought it bad enough that he needed Sherlock’s help, but having a stranger help him as well was out of the question. 

When they reached the stairs, Sherlock looked determined at John. “We’re going to take it slow okay? But we should be able to manage it.”

When John nodded, Sherlock took good hold of him and practically carried him up the seventeen steps to their front door. Once inside he dragged John to his own bedroom and placed him on the soft bed, which luckily wasn’t scattered with experiments.

“But this is your room?” John protested.

“Good deduction John” Sherlock couldn’t really see what John was on about.

“I can’t just take your room?”

“You can and you will. Your room is up another set of stairs and I’m not carrying you up and down.”

“But I could just take the sofa?”

“Under no circumstances! You need to rest properly and you can only do that in a proper bed, therefore you sleep in mine.”

John could see that there was nothing to do and was secretly pretty pleased that he had an opportunity to lie in Sherlock’s bed and be surrounded by the smell of him. If only the man himself would join him then everything would be perfect.

Speaking of that, John was starting to remember something. He didn’t precisely know what, but he knew it had something to do with a voice, Sherlock’s voice.

It had said something important, something John knew had encouraged him to wake up, but he couldn’t remember it. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t recall what it had said.

“I’m going down to get the wheelchair and some painkillers for you. Anything else you want?” Sherlock asked and took off his coat.

“No thank you I’m good” John wrapped himself in the blanket and leaned against the pillows. 

While Sherlock was gone, realization dawned. He could have died without ever telling Sherlock the truth, without ever admitting his feelings. Surprised he felt tears run down his cheeks and when Sherlock entered the room again, he almost dropped the glass of water he was holding.

“John what’s wrong?” He asked worried and sat down on the bed next to John.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” John assured him, though he wasn’t quite sure how convincing he sounded.

“Yes it is, I can tell that you’re lying, now what is it?”

“Oh well it’s just that I’m starting to realize how close I was to you know.. dying, and it’s all a bit overwhelming, sorry.”

“No need to apologize, I understand” Sherlock kept a small distance between him and John to avoid doing anything stupid, such as hugging him or kissing him that would be embarrassing.

That was Sherlock in and out. Always so cold, but still somehow John was attracted to him. He knew Sherlock had a soft side, but he so rarely saw it. Right now he just wished that Sherlock would hold him, so he knew everything was going to be all right.

“Why did you steal my jumpers?” John suddenly asked, it was something he had thought quite a lot about.

“Oh ehm I can’t really explain it, please don’t make me explain it..” Sherlock felt so bad about that, after all it was what had caused John to go out and get injured in the first place.

“But there had to have been a reason?” John kept pushing.

“I told you, it was an experiment…” 

“Oh right yeah an experiment, because experiments is all you care about isn’t it?” John was getting angry now. “It’s always bloody experiments, deductions and cases!”

“That’s not true!” Sherlock felt his voice waver; it was hard to hear John say something like that. He knew he was right of course, but he wanted to change. Wanted to become better, but he could only do that with John, which seemed impossible.

“Yes it is! If you started to care about other people and their property and emotions, then none of this would have happened!” John didn’t mean to yell at Sherlock and get so angry with him, but he simply couldn’t help it. He wanted Sherlock to love him as much as he loved Sherlock, but with the way he was acting it didn’t look like it was ever going to happen.

“I do care, you have to believe me! And I know it’s my fault okay?! I have been beating myself up about it ever since!” Sherlock was crying now. John’s words stung and he just wanted to leave.

John’s expression softened a bit. “Hey I’m sorry okay, I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair. You’re doing such a good job taking care of me, thank you for that.” John couldn’t resist, he pulled Sherlock in for a hug.

Sherlock was surprised to say the least, but it felt good and somehow he simply just couldn’t take it anymore. The guilt and fear of losing John had been building up inside him for the past month and he cried it all out on John’s shoulder.

“Oh John I was so afraid of losing you. I had lost you and it was all my fault, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry!”

“It’s okay, I’m okay, see? I’m here right now and we’re talking and we’re both all right. And don’t think about it okay? It’s not your fault.” John soothed and ran a hand up and down Sherlock’s back to calm him down. It strongly looked like no one had taken care of him, while John was at the hospital.

“But it is John, it is! I stole your jumpers for my own selfish reasons, I stole them because they smell of you..” Sherlock stopped himself immediately; he hadn’t meant to say that.

“It’s fine I forgive.. Wait what did you just say?” John asked confused.

“I said I only stole them because they smell of you…” No point in hiding it, said was said.

Suddenly it dawned to John what the voice had said in his dream. “I see..” He said, but inside him his stomach was bubbling.

“Please don’t be mad and please don’t hate me..” Sherlock got lose from John’s grip and hurried out of his room and upstairs to John’s. That was it; he had just ruined their entire friendship, really smooth.

Sherlock collapsed on John’s bed, he was pretty sure he had just lost his only friend and that was not something he was able to deal with. Instead he curled up on the bed and allowed the tears to flow freely, why did he have to show sentiment? Why couldn’t he have just kept it to himself?


	11. Chapter 11

Okay that wasn’t meant to happen. John knew Sherlock had trouble controlling his emotions, but now that he had finally admitted it, John was under no circumstances going to let this opportunity pass. He grabbed his phone and shot off a text message.

Sherlock? Please come back down –JW

Sherlock felt his phone buzz and looked at the text. He wanted to do as John asked, but he couldn’t face him. He didn’t want to know that it was over. He would have to go back to being alone and somehow the thought made him want to just die and cease to exist. He didn’t want to be alone, not again, so he couldn’t bring himself to even answer the message.

Sherlock didn’t answer and it annoyed John immensely that he couldn’t walk. He tried sending another text.

Sherlock please. Come back down won’t you? –JW

Still no answer, John sent about fifteen messages, before he decided to try something else and called Mrs Hudson. He didn’t tell her what it was about, but she agreed to try to get Sherlock back down.

Mrs Hudson was used to helping the boys and she sensed that this time it was extremely important, so she went upstairs and knocked on the door.

“Sherlock dear can I come in?” She asked softly and waited for answer. Of course. Of course John would ask Mrs Hudson to help. 

“Please go.. Please just leave me alone” He said, the last thing he needed was for anyone to see him like this. 

“Sherlock Holmes now you pull yourself together young man, I am not having it” She said firmly and continued, “Your best friend is downstairs and he needs you”

“No, he doesn’t, no one does, I have ruined everything and John would be better off by just sending me away and I’ll leave as soon as he is better, I promise.” Sherlock said miserably, he had no idea what to do. He didn’t understand emotions, but he had never felt so ashamed in his entire life. 

“Now you are being silly, don’t force me to come in and make you go down and talk with him. If you aren’t out of that room in ten minutes, you are in trouble, understand?” She said sternly and left downstairs, walking into the Sherlock’s room to see John. 

“He is a mess, I don’t know what happened between you two, but I am afraid you will have to fix it, because he certainly can’t right now, but he should be down in ten minutes or so” She informed him.

“You are a darling Mrs H, thank you.” John gave her a huge smile before she left. 

It took Sherlock a good five minutes to actually move from the bed. He went to look in the mirror; he was a mess to put it nicely. He washed his face, before walking downstairs with a heavy heart and knocked on the door to his own room.

John felt relieved when he heard Sherlock knock “Come in” He said softly and sat up more straight. 

Outside Sherlock took a deep breath and opened the door. “Did you need anything?” He asked, voice rough, assuming that was why John had texted him and eventually send Mrs Hudson to get him.

“I need you to come and sit down” John said and patted the space next to him. Sherlock did as John asked, but he really didn’t understand why he was being so nice.

“Do you know why I became so mad, because you stole my jumpers?” John asked, careful not to sound angry. 

Sherlock shook his head, he really didn’t feel like talking about that right now, but felt that he at least owed John that.

When Sherlock didn’t answer, John spoke again: “I got angry, because I thought you didn’t care about me and I wanted you to care about me.” He said and looked at his flatmate.

“But I do John, I do! You are the only thing I care about!” Sherlock exclaimed, he didn’t want John to think otherwise.

“Yes, and I know that now. I should have said this before Sherlock, and I’m sorry I didn’t, because if I had, we would have avoided all of this, but dammit Sherlock ever since that bloody first night, where we chased a cabdriver through London I was captivated. Captivated by you and your brain and what you could tell about people just by looking at them..”

Sherlock looked confused, he had expected to be yelled at, rather than being told how amazing John apparently thought he was. “It’s just my work, it’s what I do?” He protested.

“For once Sherlock, let me finish” John bit at him and continued, “But it wasn’t just that, it wasn’t just how you manage to annoy the crap out of me, leave experiments everywhere and wake me at bloody 3 am to go on a case. It was how it doesn’t bother me at all. If it had been anyone else, I would have left a long time ago, but I can’t bring myself to leave you, because I love you.” There he said it. 

If Sherlock had been surprised before, it was nothing against how he felt now. “You.. You what?” He asked, wondering whether he had heard wrong. 

“I love you Sherlock” John repeated, knowing it was a lot for him to take in.

Sherlock spend a few minutes staring into space, trying to comprehend this new information and when John gently touched his shoulder, he learned forward and pulled the older man in for a gentle hug. It felt so good, better than anything he had ever tried, because John like him too! 

They sat like that for some time, before Sherlock pulled away “Thank you” He said sincerely.

“My pleasure, but I wish I had told you sooner, I just didn’t want to scare you away” John said and brushed a stray curl away from Sherlock’s face. 

Sherlock smiled “I don’t know how to be in a relationship” He admitted and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He knew John at least had some experience, but he had never even kissed someone.

John couldn’t help but laugh a little, but stopped when he saw the hurt expression on Sherlock’s face. “Sorry Sherlock, it’s okay. I have never been with a man before, so I suppose we both a little inexperienced? I think we’ll figure it out though” He promised and took Sherlock’s hand.

Sherlock nodded, he would very much like to kiss John right now, but he was afraid if it would be all right. Luckily, John took the first step and pulled Sherlock in for a very gentle kiss.

When they pulled apart, he asked, “Okay?” And Sherlock nodded, it was more than okay. “Good” John said and pulled him in for another one.

“Now that we have this sorted out, I think I have to go to sleep, I am exhausted.” He said with a tired smile.

“Oh.. Okay, of course John.. I’ll just..?” Sherlock was unsure of what to do now.

“You can stay if you like? I would very much like your company” John asked, in fact he couldn’t think of anything better right now. 

Sherlock couldn’t help but smile as he changed into a t-shirt and lay down next to John, who put the duvet over them both. Careful not to aggravate anything, John rolled over, so he could wrap an arm around Sherlock.

Sherlock relaxed and felt happier than he could ever remember, before he closed his eyes. “Goodnight John” He said and kissed the top of his head.

John smiled “Goodnight Sherlock” He said, before nodding off.


End file.
